


Sometimes happy endings are not possible

by Makacska



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Choose Your Own Partner, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makacska/pseuds/Makacska
Summary: Sometimes happy endings are not possible and that is okay.------------Choose your own member.
Relationships: Anyone/Reader





	Sometimes happy endings are not possible

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic can be imagined with any member, I personally chose Dawon when I wrote it, but I think it is neutral enough for most of them.
> 
> Reader can also be neutral if you ignore the fact that gay marriage is not a thing in Korea.

Sometimes happy endings are not possible. That does not mean that the characters in the story do not end up happy, but that story line itself might not have a happy end. Afterall, in real life stories come and go, writing themselves, finishing themselves without care to what its participants would want. 

It’s a cold late November when your eyes first meet. It is across a café you have gone to for the first time, visiting with your boyfriend, trying to find a new place to become regulars at. He is sitting in the corner, with a broad figure sitting across from him in their fabric coat, face half covered by a cap. His gaze is bored, obviously not listening to the animated discussion that his coffee partner is having by himself. Your eyes slide away almost immediately, not interested in random guys as your boyfriend slides into the seat across from you with your orders and you look at his face, your chest warming at his cute smile. You smile back and immediately forgetting about the man in the corner. 

The second time you meet is a chance meeting as well, this time at a TV station. The group you are working with is due to step onto the stage in a few, so everyone is buzzing around them, fixing last minute make up problems and adjusting their hairs. He is on the other side of the stage, in full make up, shiny clothes hanging off him like of any model. His eyes meet yours and for a second you feel déjà vu before being carried away in the commotion. You forget about him because you have bigger problems than eyes that seem familiar. Your boyfriend texts you to ask you to meet him when you are done with work.

The third time is at a pool party at Dragon Hill in Seoul and you get dragged there by your friends who think you should celebrate your newfound singlehood. Like being dumped because your boyfriend is “too busy and needs to focus on his career” is something to celebrate. You still put something cute on and make sure that your hair and make up is on point. You know that he is not going to be there, but the make up feels like an armor and you will take anything you can. 

The party is beautiful, with snow falling outside of the heated green house like structure on the top of the one of the skyscrapers. People are in their swimsuits, looking like models and getting absolutely smashed. Your friends understand when you tell them that the only way you are willing to party is if you do not drink, they know that if you drink, you cry. So, you are one of the few sober people, jumping to the music with gyrating bodies around you when your eyes meet someone else’s. He seems to be watching you and you send a smirk his way before turning away and hugging a friend of yours and screaming with them to the music, dancing your worries away. You go home alone that night and cry yourself to sleep.

The fourth time is at a TV station again and this time you are hurrying to the room you are assigned to, nearly bumping into someone on the corridor. As you look up after muttering a “sorry” and bowing your eyes meet his and your heart skips a beat. 

“Don’t worry about it” he murmurs and you bow again automatically. 

Looking away, you mutter back “Please excuse me, I have to hurry now” and turn away without looking at him again, your heart beating rapidly as you try to get away as fast as you can without running. 

The fifth time you are not surprised anymore, clearly you work in close enough circles to run into each other from time to time. And yet, when you receive a folded paper from your work-wife at the TV station, her pointing out who sent it to you, you feel surprised. You look at the paper before looking up at him and notice that he is watching you. He looks pointedly at the paper and you quickly open it. It reads “Do you like me? Yes. No. Maybe.” With little squares next to each answer so you can tick them. You start laughing, startled by the childish question, tears gathering in your eyes as your knees almost buckle from the tremors going through your body. You quickly calm yourself down, taking deep breaths to regulate your chuckles. You whip a pen out from your pocket and tick a square while looking straight into his eyes. He is smiling at you, but there is a nervous tension around his eyes. You smile, while you turn and walk away without looking at him, trying to find your work-wife to send the note back to him. On a second thought you put a few numbers down next to the little tick that decorates the “Maybe”. 

Your eyes don’t meet again for a long time as they finish their promotion period, and you get assigned to another studio. However, it doesn’t seem like a loss when there is a “good morning” message waiting for you every morning and a hundred messages and emojis and pictures later there is a “good night” one. 

The sixth time your eyes meet, you are standing in the lobby of a cinema he chose, wanting to see the new Marvel movie. You are nervously playing with your hair as he walks up, and your heart tries to escape your chest when he looks at you with a playful smile and says “Hi”. You smile back and promptly lose count of the number of eye contacts.

Movie dates, hiding in your room while your roommate returns early from their classes and they don’t know about him, long video calls and hundreds of messages fill your days. You feel happy again.

He looks at you with tender love, he looks at you while his eyes crinkle when he is laughing, he looks at you with interest, he looks at you sleepily. Sometimes, he looks at you sadly when he cannot meet you, he looks at you with a lonely look, or an angry one. But the good looks seem to outweigh the bad ones, so it is okay. 

Until it is not, anymore. You don’t know when things changed, probably because it happened gradually, but if you had to put a date to it, you would say your 200th day anniversary. That is the first time you notice annoyance in his look. But it is normal for things not to be perfect, so you let it go and continue living your life as always. 

Except things change rapidly. He slowly answers you less and less in your Kakaotalk chat, but you dismiss it, blaming it on him being busy. Then he stops planning dates and when you ask him out, he only shows up half the time, the other half he cancels with some reason. You feel lost and you don’t understand what is going on, but you don’t know how to change things. 

The last look you share as a couple happens in the little café that became your place. He tells you that he cannot do it anymore. He tells you it is him and not you. He tells you that he loved you but he has fallen out of love. You try not to cry, but then somehow you have seen this coming. You thank him for the time you spent together and walk out of the café, not looking back. 

You cry yourself to sleep again. 

The next time your eyes meet is across the stage again, the group you are working on waiting on the right side while they wait on the right. Your eyes meet for a second before he looks away with a blank face and you turn back to your manager, trying to ignore the sick feeling rising in you. 

You slowly become immune to the glances you cannot avoid sharing. 

You meet someone new, you fall in love again, and he becomes a painful but fond memory, just like all your other exes. You are who you are because they shaped you. You cannot hate them because that would mean hating a part of you. 

You get engaged on Christmas, rapidly planning your wedding as your mother-in-law wants a spring event and you get swept away. You quit your job, not being able to handle the two at the same time and anyways, your soon-to-be husband wants you to stay at home which you are happy to do. You don’t expect to see him ever again outside of the TV shows and “happy birthday” videos in the metro. 

Your eyes meet across the lobby of the wedding venue as you are entering the Bridal room. Your heart skips a beat, but you try not to think about him. You are getting married to the love of your life, but then again, once he used to be the one. 

Your eyes meet again as people line up in front of the sofa you are sitting on in white, accepting congratulations from people wishing to greet you. He steps in front of you from behind an aunty that kissed your cheeks one too many times and squeezed your hands surprisingly strong as the photographer took a picture of you. You smile at him, heart squeezing fondly, and he smiles at you wistfully. 

“Congratulations. I hope you have all the happiness in the word. You deserve it,” he says, and you wave him next to you without saying a word. As he steps closer, you grab his hand to pull him down onto the couch. You give his hand a small squeeze while looking into his eyes before letting it go and turning towards the photographer.

You feel at peace. 

Sometimes happy endings are not meant to be. And sometimes, that is okay.


End file.
